Shattering
by Fenrisknight
Summary: A Whimsical FluffAngst Story that begins at the end of the game, after the airship graveyard, AgriasRamza Romance Spoiler Alerts Rating for minor graphical detail, Please RR New update. Chapter 6, Chance and Section (a short interlude)
1. Is This The End?

All Characters Discussed herin are property of squaresoft, they aren't mine, I'm not profiting from this piece of writing, its mostly for my own piece of mind. Thanks for all the reviews everyone, you know, I think I shall continue this fic, keep checking for updates!  
  
I'm tired. My brain is still fuzzy, as though there is a permanent layer of haze just barely covering me over. Gradually I can slowly feel that misty drifting feeling give way to searing pain. Slowly I managed to creak my eyes open, though I can't say it did any good. Though it didn't do much good at first, blood trickled into them from somewhere and a multitude of wood splinters and debris surrounded me on all sides. I found I couldn't lift my left arm, the Genji shield missing. My body was pinned by some heavy weight, and my left leg I couldn't feel really at all. But my back, against the piles of what used to be Murond was a rife with a burning pain. I raised a heavy gauntleted fist into the air, trying to focus, to pull out hidden reserves, 'Chakra' my mind exploded with a sharp intensity, dispelling the haze and alleviating the pain for a precious few minutes.  
  
I barely managed to raise my head, draped over me was the protective form of Agrias Oaks, the shield on her back and her prone position across my chest covering me, her armor was covered in matchwood and layers of dust. Her bodyguard instincts must have kicked in, when Ajora obliterated the airship graveyard. Her face was crumpled on my left shoulder, a mess of cuts and scratches and a dozen bleeding wounds that were dripping slowly onto my own armor. I couldn't move my left arm still, pinned down by her heavy armor clad form, so instead I focused will again, this time for her trying to come up with enough power for another Chakra.  
  
It felt like hours. A dark overcast sky bristling with thunder and lightning, a stiff wind blowing the dust in my eyes, but hardest to take of all was the barely breathing form of my friend draped over my chest. Emotion welled up in my chest, but I didn't even have the strength to cry, I couldn't do anything. Some great hero I was, son of legendary Balbanes, slayer of Lucavi demons, preventer of the apocalypse, lying here in the refuse of a city unable to get up.  
  
The sheer panic began to slowly pull me into it's grip, who else survived? What if I was the only one? And did it really matter? I was probably going to be found lying here dead in the ruins of Death City Murond amid the corpses of my friends. Do I deserve to live? Time stopped as a thousand thoughts whirled through my head, like being in the middle of a hurricane able to see every single raindrop. It was as though every life was placed before me, spinning around too fast to see, on their own predetermined courses, broken apart from each other, ripped from their groups to find their own places to land.  
  
My eyes turned to Agrias, her face on my shoulder. It was funny, in a stupid observant sense; I don't think I'd ever seen her look peaceful in all our adventures, until now. She never looked more beautiful than that. Even covered in dust and blood, spit and grime, I wouldn't have had a better companion at my side, a truer friend. Aside from my own sister, there was no one else I would place my life in so easily.  
  
Black edges crept into my vision, and the world began to lilt crazily, I wanted to move, wanted to scream, to leap, to even cry. But nothing escaped my lips beyond a paltry few words. "I love you, Agrias." And then?it all fell into oblivion.  
  
----- ----- -----  
  
Words hummed at the edge of my consciousness. Something, infinitesimal, beyond, just beyond my grasp, like reaching from beneath a heavy blanket for that first cold pitcher of water in the morning. It called to me, my name, I think? My eyes had a hard time obeying; exhaustion had smothered me like quicksand, invading my senses, dragging me down into a numbness that I had never felt before. What was it, who was calling to me? What was so important that it had to disturb me from my rest?  
  
"...Agrias." My name, that's what it was, but who spoke it so softly, so tiredly? Then like a bolt spell it hit me, Ramza. My eyes would've snapped open had they not been caked in dirt and mud, I haphazardly shook my head, trying to clear my vision, sheer desperation lending me feeble strength to shrug out of a gauntlet and wipe vainly at my eyes. Finally they blinked open, ripping skin and opening more wounds on my face, I found it had not been mud, but my own blood which was still dripping onto the ground from my armor.  
  
My eyes blinked, Ramza! He was right in front of me; I must be lying on him. My mind snapped perfectly awake now, as though I had been hit with ice. What was I doing here? Where were we? Of course, at Murond still, it was hard to see in the half light from the overcast skies, and in the distance the lazy rumble of thunder echoed through my brain, but my thoughts began to pick up.  
  
A storm possibly, we had to find shelter, I had to bandage my wounds and see to Ramza, and then once the storm passed, we could look for other survivors. No one would be checking out this area in that kind of weather for at least a few days, we had some time. I tried to roll off of Ramza carefully, but his left hand was wrapped about my waist.  
  
Agonizingly I lifted myself up, the weight of the Genji shield on my back pushing against my tired body, as I rolled over his hand and onto my back next to him, gasping for breath and cursing my own weakness and shortcomings. An uncomfortable lump was under my shoulder blades, and I lifted myself up again to find Ramza's Genji shield there, at least we wouldn't lose prize equipment to scavengers. On the other hand, if we didn't live through the next day it wouldn't make much difference either way.  
  
On that dreadfully cheery thought, I lifted Ramza, Genji armor and all off the ground, grunting with exertion, and practically swaying on my own feet I made a quick line over the rubble towards what few standing walls there were left, as I approached it became apparent that a part of an entranceway was still intact, making for a half decent crumbled cave shelter we could maybe utilize.  
  
The adrenaline began to take leave of me, now that we were out of immediate danger, and I let Ramza down gently, propping him up against the ruin of the building. Just after we got in the rain started to come, first just a few drops, then a rushing torrent racing down from the heavens. It was so peaceful, the first quiet I'd had in years that I could really remember. No screaming of markets, shouting and yelling of battle, no death, just the rain to wash away the scars.  
  
Stripping off the Maxmillion from my weary body, I began to dress my wounds...nothing overtly dangerous, a few jagged openings and a loss of blood that made my head spin and the vertigo doubly cruel, but nothing that my sheer determination couldn't overcome. I turned to Ramza and began working on him, the Genji armor was hard to remove, and blood clots had fused the soft leather interior to his wounds, reopening them as I pulled off the plates. He was in worse shape, a deep wound that had gone across his chest from Altima's fearsome blasts, his left leg might have been broken, I couldn't quite tell, hopefully just a fracture but without causing him a huge amount of pain, there was nothing I could do.  
  
I set about rubbing a potion slave on the wound on his chest, forcing his lips open and spilling some of a precious elixir down his throat to hopefully do some good. It felt weird to be taking care of Ramza this way; usually he saw to it that everyone else on the team was tended to first before anyone could get a close look at his own injuries. Once he had hidden a punctured lung for at least an hour before finally succumbing to letting me use a potion on him. Now that we were alone, I could look all I wanted at Ramza and not be questioned. I never had much a chance to study him from this close, he was always overseeing the team, managing everything, training each other, and often just being there to help. I'd had my share of conversations of course, but it was a rare opportunity at that it was just me and him.  
  
I couldn't hazard a guess at his age. Probably no older than 24, even I myself am barely 26, but the battles and the death had taken a toll on both of us. He could've been mistaken from anywhere between eighteen and forty. But at the moment, the sandy blond hair, and the youthful features shone through. Here was the son of legendary Balbanes. Here was the usurper of Lucavi, the preventer of an apocalypse, branded as a heretic and pretty much a terrorist; he never lost sight of those goals, of just helping people and wanting to save his sister. Ramza, a true Beoulve. But right now, he looks like any other man, battle weary, bandaged and sore, what a great toll these battles have taken on him. The loss of Nede and Ryudo in one ill-planned order, the constant heartache, the decisions and having to watch the world he knew crumble apart. What must life be like, I'm sure I don't know it all, I'm sure even if he let his heart out, and he never would, I'm sure I would never understand it all.  
  
But now, so young, so vulnerable. Forced to grow up without his mother or his father to give him guidance, to throw off the yoke of his name and try to forge a world without the maddening corruption that killed his best friend's sister. I'm sure if I was a writer, it would be a wonderful play in Dorter.  
  
Wrapped up in my own thoughts I almost didn't notice him start to shiver. Almost. There was no way for me to make a fire, nothing to make it with even, and no blankets or rags to cover him up. Admittedly I am getting cold too now, the water is making its way through the rubble, a trickle here, a trickle there. I don't know what else to do, so I lie down next to him, both arms awkwardly drifting around his chest and my head on his shoulder. The rainfall is so peaceful, so quiet and so rhythmic I can't help but let my eyelids fall slowly. His breathing against my arms, the slow quiet heartbeat and above all else, the feeling of being alive.  
  
A few words, escape my parched lips before the softness of sleep fully embraces me. "I love you, Ramza."  
  
This story is property of FenrisKnight 


	2. Stripped of Hope

Sweet Jebus, this chapter is so full of angst it was almost painful to write. But its not the end, take heart, we keep rolling on! Keep the reviews coming, and I'd love to hear from any of you about what you like/don't like.  
  
  
  
"Ramza"  
  
Voices. In my head, in the back, somewhere. I'm trying to claw my way out of the darkness, to wake up, to do something, anything. Everything is blurry around me, I can distinctly feel the rain on me, my armor is soaked to the bone, the leather grips me like a vice. I want to shiver, my body aches to, but it can't move, warped in place by invisible constraints.  
  
"Why Ramza? Why did you bring us here? To die?"  
  
"No" I whisper. My own voice is not my own, its sickly, twisted, it sounds like.like something else. I try again, "No, I never meant to." No good, what's happening? What is this? The voice, I don't understand.  
  
"Why? You risked us all to just save your sister. Is that how it works? Ten lives for one? Where is she now?"  
  
I don't know. I don't know. The tears fog my eyes, I just don't KNOW! "I never asked to be a hero." The only thing I can think of to say, what else? "I didn't want anyone to die, I didn't want to hurt anyone, I just wanted to get away." I did, didn't I? I never wanted to be the son of Balbanes, I never wanted to be nobility, I never wanted to be a king. If I had the choice, I would've done my life differently. I just want, to help people.  
  
"You killed us."  
  
"Mustadio?" The name comes to my brain; it's out of my mouth before I can think. Who's voice? What's going on? "Where are you?"  
  
"I'm in hell Ramza." The voice.it's deep, it's quiet. What's going on? In hell? Am I dead? Is that what it's all about?  
  
The spinning sensation suddenly increases, and I have the distinct feeling I'm not in the same position. The brief vertigo only serves to remind me mostly of my lack of control. I need to get away, but my limbs still won't respond, all I can feel is the coppery taste of blood running down my mouth, the tears in the corners of my eyes, and that utter lack of being able to do anything.  
  
"Brother, Brother Ramza?"  
  
"Alma!" My sister, what?  
  
"You couldn't save me Ramza. You shouldn't have come, it was all in vain."  
  
No, that can't be right. We can't all be dead can we? I don't want this, but I can't move. "Alma, I'm sorry, I couldn't be stronger."  
  
"Don't be sorry brother. There was nothing you can do. But I have to go now." Her voice begins to echo, fading away, slowly disappearing. Again.  
  
"No, Alma!" I've got to move, got to get up; I can't lose my sister, not like this, not again, not ever. My legs burn, my arms are stiff and my lungs afire, running, through the inky darkness, I'm dimly aware of the blood racing down my chest from a wound, but I can't stop, got to keep going, to keep moving, to save my own sister. Just in the distance, I can make out her shadowy form. She embraces someone else, a tall woman with blond hair silken form fitting garnments, it's Nede! Next to her is the solid form of Ryudo, his long Muramasa at his waist and his shogun stylized armor distinctive, kissing Nede deeply, they lead Alma away.  
  
"No!"  
  
A sudden impact, and I'm falling backwards until I land with a thump, before me, such a sight for sore eyes. Agrias. Garbed in her Maxmillion, sword strapped to her back. Never before have I been so ecstatic to see her battle worn form, the blood on her hair and the scars on her cheek.  
  
"Agrias, we've got to go, after them. Nede and Ryudo, and Alma!" But Agrias just stands there, blocking the path. She shakes her head slowly, and only then can I see her eyes. Round and sad, with tears and blood leaking down her face. She pulls me back to my feet, and before I can open my mouth she embraces me, a hug. I've never hugged Agrias before, a pat on the back, a friendly grasp on the shoulder, but never before, a hug. "Shh Ramza, it's ok."  
  
Her body fairly heaves with sobs, and for the moment, I can't do anything more than pull her closer. I want so much to touch her, to make her know we'll find the way out of it. To do something, to be someone, just to heal the wounds.  
  
"We can't go there Ramza, it is not our place." Her voice is cracked, the pitch stings my ears, it makes me flinch. The emotion is almost like being punched, why? "We cannot go there, unless."  
  
"Unless what?" The desperation leaks through me, I need to know, I need to understand, I need to help them. I can't lose them again, not like this.  
  
The Ragnarok appears in my hands, and Agrias steps back hesitantly. "Kill me, release me from my torment, let me be free." My mouth is agape, I can't move, can't breathe, I have to get out of this, get away, to collect my thoughts. I can't, I won't. Agrias wouldn't ask this, but the hilt of the Ragnarok is heavy in my hands, it's cooling weight, it's reassuring hold.  
  
"No, I can't do that." I try to lick my lips, but my tongue is dry. It's not my voice again. I try to release the Ragnarok, but my gauntlet is locked around it, the rainwater falls in a breaker around me, pushing me down, I want to sit, to let my knee's buckle, but I can't, my whole life has been like watching it all from the outside, until now, I can't do anything. "I won't kill you, I can't, don't ask me to."  
  
"Please Ramza!" Her voice practically begs, it disturbs me, I've never heard that before, never seen it. Her anguish tears at me, like being ripped up and having your soul torn out. "Please." it sounds like a broken kitten, mewing at me, for an instant, my heart almost stops beating. Her proud shoulder's slump, her eyes downcast, and she almost falls forward. Why? Why did she go through all this.for me, of course, being a bodyguard, but what more can I do? For all the things she's done for me, taken an arrow, shoved me out of the way, stood by me, I cannot do this. I am weak.  
  
"I cannot." With incredible effort, I release the Ragnarok, it falls limply to the ground next to me.  
  
With haunting eyes, Agrias looks up at me, sadness, an anguish that drives sharp knives into my heart. No please. I would rather be torn apart for eternity by Ultima, then face those eyes again. With a disparaging wail, she fades away into the blackness, and I'm left standing alone, in the rain.  
  
"Ramza"  
  
That voice I know all too well. The subtle tuggings, the voice of the shadows, words spoken by the evil. Lucavi.  
  
"I can offer you a way, I can release you. Return you to the others."  
  
"No" The vindictiveness of my tone startles even me. I will not be subverted. I will not give into weakness, I will not become a servant of darkness.  
  
"You have nothing left, you are a weak, pathetic shell of a mortal"  
  
"No" I clutch the Ragnarok, I will not be corrupted.  
  
"You are weak, you have no friends, even Heaven will not accept the soul of the heretic."  
  
"No."  
  
"There is nothing for you. I am your god now."  
  
With a final burst of raw desperation, I race forward, piercing the darkness. And then I'm falling. Falling into the inky void. Falling away. Into Oblivion.  
  
  
  
We all fight our own demons, in our own way, some falter, some are strong. Some are the rocks which others stand upon, others are the darkness itself, to reach up and grab us. But regardless, we all face the same thing, Despair.  
  
Thanks everyone for reading this far, I couldn't have gotten here without you all, stay tuned for the continuation of my fic! Peace out and keep the reviews coming! 


	3. Vigil For A Fallen Hero

In truth, this chapter only took me two hours to write, but indeed I was writing this entire scene endlessly since I finished the other chapter. It's been playing, in my mind, again, and again, and again until I think I just really had to put it into words on paper, so here it is, chapter three.  
  
  
  
Vigil For A Hero  
  
"Agrias, stop pacing around and just sit, relax, and be calm."  
  
"How am I supposed to be calm?" Alright, soothing thoughts, soothing thoughts. I can't take much more of this. Being placated by anyone is hard, but to be spoken to from the Thundergod himself as though I were a little child is almost maddening. I try to stop, lean back against the doorway, but it feels weird, how am I supposed to relax? I mean really? The nervous edge hasn't left me yet.  
  
The others found us, me barely conscious, I suppose it's been about a week now, I'm told I woke up after four days, but Ramza has come down with an earth shatteringly high fever, he hasn't woken up, only thrashed under the blankets and murmured incoherently. I can't make heads nor tails of it, but Alma and I haven't left his side. We supposedly arrived through a discreet transport at Warjilis while me and Ramza were out, furthest away from Delita I suppose we'll be safe for now.  
  
A firm hand suddenly pushes me down, into a plush chair at the table, for a glimmer of a second; I almost lash out, snapping away at the hand, before my blue eyes are met with Meliadoul's hard brown ones. "Sit down, eat this, Mustadio slaved away to make a soup that isn't burnt, be thankful."  
  
My mouth opens, but the words don't come out, instead my stomach betrays me by rumbling noisily. It has been a while since I last ate. Passing me the spoon, Meliadoul nods to Cid, and then quietly exits the room. For a second I study the polished steel, almost as though I can see my reflection through it, a foggy glimmer of a hard woman who couldn't live the life of a noble, who wasn't soft enough, or simple enough to be a court lady, but who instead wanted to be a knight.  
  
"Dig in, it's good soup." Alma pipes up from the bedside, her hands haven't left Ramza's, and she clutches them almost in a death grip, so terrified he's going to leave her. It's been hard for her, she hardly trusts us, being locked away, she knows Cid and trusts him the most, but still, it must be hard.  
  
For a second, I can't help but think how alike they are, brother and sister. Two people, who just wanted to help others. But where Ramza conceals his emotion, and lets it out on the battlefield, Alma doesn't, she let's everyone know what she's thinking, what she wants, and what she needs. She helps people not because she can, but because it's the right thing to do, but to watch her poised over her brother's ashen frame, is almost more than my heart can bare.  
  
"Eat Agrias." Cid's rough baritone is the decisive knoll of a low bell in the silent room. Against the backdrop of the constant rain. He is something else, always the surprises. He hasn't moved from a plush chair in the corner of the room, studying the Germonik Scriptures and occasionally leaving for reasons unexplained. He watches them, as surely as I do, for he is there conceived 'uncle'. Even Alma turns to him, perhaps even as a father in some ways.  
  
The spoon dips away into the creamy broth, and my reflection is gone. Taking a spoonful I realize it is good, and what Mustadio must have had to do in order to get it to taste this good, normally Rafa or Malak cook. So many people, all here, waiting for our valiant leader to rise from his death bed and command us. But to where? Our cause is over, the country is safe for now, and Lucavi has given up.or has he? Is this St. Ajora's final damnation?  
  
I sit there, for a long time, drinking the soup until it's all gone, and then stare. Losing track of the minutes, as they meld into hours, and as the hours slowly meld into a day, and then another, the slow drumming of the rain giving way to flashes of lightning, and a darkened sky. Cid rises slowly, lighting a handful of candles before making his nightly exit, wrapped in the brown cloaks, we don't ask where he goes, it's really none of our business, but presumably he has more than enough gil to cover our extended stay here, not to mention the immense medicine we've used and all the food.  
  
Alma kneels there, chanting her brother's name like a mantra, one that will bring him out of his torpor and back into the world of the living. But the faint tugging of failure pulls at my brain. I wish desperately I could trade my life for his, for his means more to these people than mine ever will.  
  
"Agrias." Mustadio and the others enter slowly, baring blankets pillows and other things. It's almost like a ceremony, maybe we're worshipping our dead god. Or maybe we all keep our vigil for a friend. Taking the candles we kneel. Alma and Rafa sniff back tears, Mustadio in his grave silence. Beowulf and Reis kneel together, Worker 8 and Byblos stand next to the door solemnly, Meliadoul, Malak and Cloud all crouch silently. There is no prayer, nothing to pray to, St. Ajora is the reason for our friend's pain, for ours as well.  
  
Ramza's brow furrows, his frown deepens, his entire body tenses like a wound spring. "Why?" he gasps, his frail voice seeming to fill the room. The silence after that stretches ever more, before Ramza's own eyes flash open, their clear blue seemingly tainted in the candle light, tears glimmer at the corners, and a grave pain rips at him.  
  
"Ramza." I whisper, not entirely trusting my own voice. I want so much to touch him, to gaze into his eyes when they were full of life.  
  
"I'm sorry." His voice is faint, but the tears dribble down, his mouth is open and in adjunct horror. "I'M SORRY!" The scream rents the air, like a thousand blades that tear into my body. I didn't want to hear that. What is he sorry for, what has he done. Alma takes his hand in her two smaller ones, trying to do something, anything to comfort her only living kin.  
  
"No, Please. Nede, we'll come for you. Ryudo, we'll save you, just wait." His voice is slurred, his speech is slow and strange, but it is like crystal to my ears, so quite are we all as we listen. Never before has he said this much, ranting and raving in feverish pitch. Alma bows her head, tears racing down her face as she weeps openly. Even Mustadio breaks down and sniffs audibly, Reis can only stare.  
  
"Agrias." I flinch, as if touched by a live coal. Why did he say my name? What is he seeing? The fear at the bottom of my heart is almost like a stopping force, it tears and devours, breaking away my resolution slowly by slowly.  
  
"I can't. I won't. Don't ask me to." He goes on, at length, again, and again. The words, the same words, but never before has he put my name with them. "I can't. I won't. Don't ask me to." Even though now, he has stopped saying them, I can hear them, ringing in the shadows of my mind.  
  
"No, Please?" His voice is quiet then, pleading like a little child. Beowulf turns away his head in shame, the flicker of moisture on his eyes evident even through the candlelight. Reis puts her head on his shoulder, and yet still they watch. "No, please. Agrias." I almost flinch again, so strange is it all. "Don't. Please, don't leave me. I can't, please." I reach out my hand from the bedside, and run the back of my hand down his forehead, his fever burns at my touch, the skin is hot and clammy, but the weariness is what almost throws me off of him, the sheer sorrow emanating from his body. "Agrias, please."  
  
"Ramza." My voice is not my own, littered with a rasp, and the emotion which chokes at my throat, constricting my voice, trying to rob me of my ability, of my speech. "I'm here Ramza. I'll be here forever."  
  
I wrap his hands in mine, and stare at those vacant blue eyes that mean so much. Where is the youthful boy so long ago, where is the integrity, the vision, the brilliance I know is somewhere, hidden deep within the pain.  
  
"Agrias," His voice begins to wane, a scratchy whisper, his lips are dry and his throat constricts for a glimmer of a second. "Don't leave me, please. I love you." His eyes flutter closed, and his grip slowly slackens, his breathing gently resumes its normal pace, and his mouth closes. The tears continue to run, staining the bed sheets and blanket, before I can see no more.  
  
Letting my head down slowly, I let the tears, finally come.  
  
  
  
It tears at me to write this fic, but damn, I have to keep going. I am really loving the development of the characters, I was sleeping when the entire scene just played itself out in my head, I still think this is one of the, bar none, best scenes I've written so far, but some people think it's entirely too boring. Anyway, read and I'll post more later (. 


	4. Frailties Of The Heart

This chapter took a long time to write, it took a lot of thinking on my part, and I hope I did Agrias's character right, because I kept thinking more and more about how strange she sounded. Often times, people tell me that her character is hard to write, because of how little impact she does in the game after the third chapter really, but in my game, it was always like she was there, doing something, having a part, and I tried to incorporate that into the story. Thanks again for all the reviews, as of me writing this, I have a nice round 25, very kewl. One thing that was driving me absolutely insane was the dumb title of the story, (After reading through icy brian's for ideas, it came to me how plain and boring it is) so I've renamed the story Shattering.  
  
  
  
Up down, left right. Thrust, parry, swing and stab. The Chaos Blade spins in my hands, its deadly black edge glinting in the dusk light. The same pattern, I've been doing it for the last 4 hours atop here, watching, and fighting.  
  
What am I fighting? My own demons I suppose, they leap and strike, but I keep up the dance. Never falter, never misstep, how long can I do this? Who comes to save me? Where is my knight in shining armor? He doesn't exist, or he's lying on his death bed somewhere in the city behind me, he's somewhere lost to me. I jamb the Chaos Blade deeply into the earth at my feet, point down, popping the buckles of the Maxmillion from my body I let it fall down on a nearby rocky outcropping, then taking up the sword again, I start anew.  
  
Chop, block, twist and lunge. Keep the movements going ever faster. I take off the legplates next, after a half hour, leaving my leather leggings and loose cloth shirt on, protection against the bitter wind. A riveting cleave, a spin and a weak punch. But still my mind wanders off. I can't focus on the moves. A rising slash, a balanced stance before lunging into another set of moves, but still, they feel false.  
  
What am I doing here? I should be doing something, anything but watching life pass by. There's nothing for me here anymore, is that my answer? The people whose lives I protect, but they can protect themselves now. The world doesn't need a hero anymore. But Ramza's voice calls out to me again, it echoes, again, and again. I can't shake loose the feeling, sinking into my soul, past the sweat, the scars and the blood. "I love you, Agrias."  
  
He was delirious my mind tells me. He could've said that about anyone, Meliadoul, Alma, any of the others. Rafa who is so much prettier, everyone who is so much smarter, all I know is to fight, nothing more, nothing less. "I love you, Agrias." Stop whispering to me, I don't want to hear it. He would waste his life with me, he could go back now, Delita would pardon him, he could be a noble again. I'm just a knight without a cause.  
  
The tears are running down my face now, they come so much more easily with no one watching, but even in the shadows of myself, I can't escape who I am. I had that choice once, long ago, I could've been a noble woman, but now I'm a fighter. "I love you, Agrias." No. It's not right. I don't deserve the son of Balbanes. He deserves someone better, a fine, soft lady. Someone not scarred by war.  
  
"Lightning Stab." The words roll of my tongue, and before I know what I'm doing, a small frail plant next to me explodes as my power strikes it. The flames lick hungrily at the dry grasses, and I hurriedly stomp them out. Look at that. How easily I can kill something that was once so fragile and beautiful. "There's no place for me now." My own mind whispers the truths, but they hurt my heart so.  
  
Is this what I'm supposed to do? Is that what they mean that you have to release the one you love, to set them free? I swing again, my rage, my frustration channeled into the blow, but it does nothing, nothing to strike, nothing to reach out and hit. What must this be like? This is the life of a soldier, to be used and discarded when the peace comes, but if it means that no one will die anymore, then so be it. This is the life I should lead. Hurt more people? I cannot. I lived my life protecting people, perhaps the greatest gift I could give them yet would be to leave.  
  
Spin and strike, again and again. The sun has set now. Only the glint of my sword and of the moon above around me. Alone in the darkness. This is my life, playing from behind the shadows, where the people cannot see, where they don't know the evil that lurks behind that we fight. But now, history will not remember us, for to it, we did not exist. What purpose do I still have?  
  
My blade stops suddenly, halted by a sturdy oak tree. Oaks. That's me. A rigid protector, isn't that right? Now there is nothing to protect, I may as well be cut down for furniture. Isn't that right? Is that how history remembers the saviors? Who else then, are the saviors that we don't remember? With a burst of icy rage, I run my sword straight through the tree, watching it tumble to the ground with a crash, just like that, it dies. I'm panting suddenly, my chest heaves and the sweat runs down my braids.  
  
I don't have a place here. It's time to go. I've known it all along, and though my heart is fit to break, my mind is clear.  
  
I'm suddenly buckling back on the legplates, throwing the armor in a saddlebag atop the Chocobo, its time to go. The sword in its sheath I look around the little cliff. Involuntarily, I can't help but walk to the edge, staring down at the long fall below. Looking around, I spot a handful of reeds and a small new orchid growing next to the rock, against insurmountable odds. Cupping the frail orchid in my hands, I pull lightly, its blue, and white, polished and beautiful in the moonlight. Taking the reeds in my other hand I produce a short knife, working quietly at something I can't quite remember how to do, but my fingers, they work themselves.  
  
An hour later, or maybe a day, who can tell, I have a small reed flute in my hands, and the prettiest orchid in the world. Laying the orchid down on the cliff, I let it sit there, heavy and cold, like I am. It is little beacon in a hard world, a touch of soft beauty against the jaggedness of life.  
  
I turn back towards the cliff, staring down, trying to perceive the inky blackness. Somewhere, deep down there. Raising the reed to my lips, I blow a single clear note across the quiet night sky. A clear full moon watches me, as I make my exit.  
  
Am I real? Am I a dream?  
  
Am I borrowed? Am I blue?  
  
Is it just the dust of leaving you settling?  
  
Am I fair? Am I strong?  
  
Am I there? Do I belong?  
  
Is it only skin I touch  
  
when I reach for you?  
  
Oh, the leaves they fall,  
  
they go so far sometimes.  
  
Do I blame the wind  
  
or the tree for letting you go?  
  
Or do I wave goodbye, setting?  
  
Do I stay? Do I fight?  
  
Is it wrong and nothing's right?  
  
Or is it just the closet light  
  
I've offered you?  
  
Oh the leaves they fall,  
  
they go so far sometimes.  
  
Do I blame the wind  
  
or the tree that let you go?  
  
Or do I wave goodbye, settling?  
  
So many times I needed  
  
you to be strong to me.  
  
But you bend beneath  
  
the slightest breeze.  
  
You have no leaves,  
  
no leaves, no leaves...  
  
Settling.  
  
Am I fair? Am I strong?  
  
Do I stay? Do I fight?  
  
Is it just the closet light?  
  
Is it only skin I touch,  
  
or is it just the dust settling?  
  
--*--*--  
  
The clear reed blows through the darkness. A sound I haven't heard in a long time. Who calls me, who blows that sweet secret music of my childhood? It drags me up, lifts me towards the surface, like breaking the water of swimming upwards to the crest of the beautiful blue waves on the ocean.  
  
Suddenly I'm awake, a spilling, almost violent action as I rise, my blue eyes unseeing and seeing all at once, everything and anything, all and nothing. And But one word escapes my parched lips.  
  
"Agrias."  
  
Woooot, that chapter is done. Everyone loves yes? Well if you hated it I won't hold it against you, I think I really set a lot of people on edge in this chapter, but its by no means what I really wanted, I think, I wanted this to be the longest chapter, but somehow it came out to be the shortest. The song is Settling by Tara MacLean, download it, I really recommend it.  
  
Thanks for all the reviews everyone, it is much appreciated and it really helps a struggling author on, I probably wouldn't have gotten here, to the fourth chapter without support from friends and lots of others. But the ball doesn't stop rolling here, we just keep going, more chapters to come soon. 


	5. Running Blind

Yay. Here we go, chapter five. This took me a frigging long time to write, but I had a lot of fun doing so. At the time of this chapter, I'm at 33 reviews.woot I didn't think anyone actually liked my writing, but apparently I'm incorrect. Well this chapter may yet change your views of my writing and you'll see it for the crap it really is. But anyways, the long awaited Ramza finally wakes up.lazy yutz. Keep the reviews coming.I'm so happy and all, hehe.  
  
Woken up from a dream. Dragged out of hell. It doesn't matter where I've come from now, but where I'm going. Maybe it's battle training, maybe it's adrenaline, maybe it's just the fact that I need to move, but I'm on my feet in seconds, throwing off the blankets onto a startled Alma, with a decisive move I snag my Genji armor off the table, buckle on my Ragnarok and dart for the door.  
  
"Brother Ramza! What? Huh?" Alma is struggling from the blankets, trying to get over her shock, but I've got to move, I've got to go to Agrias, I can't wait here.  
  
"Agrias, where did she go? Alma, I must know!" My voice is desperate, the edge scares even my little sister. Her brown eyes are wide and staring, I didn't mean to do that, I didn't mean to scare her.  
  
"She, she left last night, no one's seen her since, she probably went into the city for supplies." Alma rose quickly then, coming towards me slowly and looking deeply. "You said things, when you were out that is. A lot of different things." The look on her face puzzles me. Said what kind of things? She's thoughtful and searching, her quick eyes on my face and I'm confused now.  
  
"What kind of things? What did I say?" My voice still has that desperate edge, but I'm curious now too.  
  
"You said.you said that you loved her." My mind reeled at that. The ground had dropped out beneath me and I was falling. Loved her.  
  
What was I thinking? Love? I didn't know anything about that, I'd been raised with a silver goblet in my left hand, and a sword in my right. Love. How could I have said anything about that? Of all the stupid.  
  
"Brother?" Alma's eyes were pleading. Quiet and staring at me as I struggled with my own inner turmoil.  
  
"What.what did I do?" My cheeks are blushing scarlet, but I can't stop my eyes from staring at Alma. Please to god, tell me this is just her idea of a fun little joke. But somewhere, deep inside, I already know the truth.  
  
"You have to go after her you know." Alma's voice changed then. It was no longer the pleading one of my childhood, but something different. I looked at her, how she had grown up, a young woman, no longer the little girl who dropped a reed into my hands and asked me to play. No longer the little girl who hugged our father and put a little white lily in his hands, no longer the grinning eyes, or the smile of innocence. That's what this blasted war stole from both of us.innocence.  
  
I had lost my innocence in this war. Would I lose love as well?  
  
There was no more time to ask questions of myself. I turned and ran, I had to run, to pump my legs, to race down through the house, racing through the town. I hadn't run like this in a long time, not from or to a battle, not to save life, but to find my own. Where was my life? Buried beneath all the sorrow.  
  
Maybe she's gone  
  
But it won't be for long  
  
What do I know?  
  
Maybe she's found  
  
What we all dream about  
  
What do I know?  
  
She's beautiful and wonderful  
  
I can't compare  
  
It's not that fair  
  
"Help me, someone!" A voice calls out to me in the streets, somewhere to my right. Skidding to a stop I try to think. I need to find Agrias, my love, isn't that right? But I can't leave someone in need. A sigh almost shrugs through my body, but somehow, I can't stop myself from charging around that corner, hand on my hilt.  
  
Three knights and a thief have cornered a female templar knight. I stop suddenly. This is dangerous, a templar knight could report me to the church, and put all my friend's lives at risk, we wouldn't be safe here anymore. But seeing four people gang up on one is hardly just, and I can't control my hands from drawing the Ragnarok smoothly.  
  
"Leave her alone." My simple voice rolls off my tongue, startlingly cold. I'm not sure why, I don't usually get angered like this very often. But then, whenever I've seen people take advantage of those weaker then them, or those who outnumber others. Bullies and cowards, always needing to be dealt with. I don't look very imposing, an edge I welcome, in my simple blue and black Genji, and the Ragnarok, aside from the hilt and etchings looks like nothing special.  
  
"Shut up boy, get on your own way or else we may have to settle things with you as well." The first knight spoke, the thief snickered slightly, a smirk that I wanted to wipe from his face with the edge of my sword. I was only 22. That thought hit me rather harshly. I was very very young compared to the rest of the world, but already I felt so old, so tired and so weak compared to the injustices that surrounded me.  
  
"Leave her alone. Or face the consequences." Again I was startled by the tiredness in my voice. But I didn't feel like bantering, they would fight me nonetheless, their pride would allow for no less. The three knights exchanged a knowing smirk, and then advanced upon me. Their weapons were almost sad in comparison to mine, and with a pang of 'almost' regret, I stepped forward to meet them.  
  
The first knight, one on the left darted forward at me with his sword point outstretched. He must've thought he was moving fast, but I merely sidestepped and hit him with the hilt of Ragnarok, sending him sprawling face first into the dirt. The other two moved more cautiously. The thief, confidently watched as he slipped closer to the temple knight and held an assassin dagger outstretched.  
  
A swing left and both the knights pincer me, but it doesn't matter. Their weapons won't damage my armor, and I take the time to move the fight closer to the thief, who's stopped paying attention now and is focused on the templar. With a quick clash I stab the first knight just barely through his weak armor, barely enough to graze him before spinning around and slashing the mantle off the other.  
  
By now, clear fear is beginning to show on their faces. They've never seen anyone like me move so fast, strike so hard to cleave armor or do so without even missing a beat. It's the clear mental superiority that I use to beat them without shedding too much blood. Loss of life is a hard thing to deal with these days.  
  
With a mad bolt, the three knights race off, a few splatters of blood on the flagstones, leaving me to contend with only the thief. His eyes are wide and his mouth open in a wide gape. I advance slowly, carefully, don't want him to do anything desperate now, just to let him out of the cage so he can bolt too.  
  
"Who are.where did you.?" He stammers and stumbles over backwards. Weaving the dagger in what he tries to maintain a protective circle.  
  
Suddenly from behind him, the templar knight moves closer. With a lightning fast draw she rams the sword through his back until the point pierces through the middle of his chest, with a sharp action she runs the blade straight up, slashing through the blades of his left shoulder and cutting until it hits the free air.  
  
With a sagging motion, the thief slowly crumples to the ground like a bag of sodden flesh. His eyes glaze over and a dribble of blood courses out between his lips. She wipes her blade on the thief's clothing before sheathing it, and then she turns to me. This is my first time to analyze her up close. She has that haughty, templar knight bearing, flowing blue armor linked together tightly and a white cape draped over it all.  
  
"My name is Illana, my thanks to you devout stranger, and St. Ajora's blessings upon you." Her eyes race up and down my frame. Suddenly tightening on my eyes. She's tall, just barely shorter than me, long blond hair that frames her sickeningly angelic face. One hand rests on the scabbard of her intricate sword, the other concealed deep within her cloaks. "Thank you again, stranger.I hope we cross paths again." She moves away slowly then, catlike grace taking her off in a different direction.  
  
I don't say anything, merely nodding and deciding that is a good time to make my escape into the alleyways. With a swish of my mantle I disappear, moving quickly through the streets on my path way earlier, searching for any sign of Agrias.  
  
That meeting was unnerving however. Just the way she sized me up, was beyond a little strange. Like she was looking for someone. I'd have to be indefinitely more careful in the future, especially if I aspired to save templar knights. The callous way she killed the thief was strange though. And the fact that she did it so easily leads me to believe that perhaps it shouldn't have been that simple.  
  
Something lead me to believe that life was never that simple.  
  
- - - -  
  
So that was the great Ramza Beoulve.  
  
Interesting.  
  
This chapter, wasn't all done in one sitting, believe it or not. Unlike all the other chapters, it was a weeks worth of procrastination and a bunch of different scenarios.  
  
I've often been bugged that there is no distinct conflict, besides the love between Ramza and Agrias going on in this story.well here you have a nice little one kicking around *le grin*. 


	6. Chance and Section

Just a short chapter up this time, working on more extensive things, but I thought I'd finally get around to posting some of my meanderings from English class. Hah, oh well, just sorta building on Illana's character.

- - - - -

"You saw him then?"

"Yes." Give only one word answers. I always remember Nigel, my lord's training. Give only as much as they want to hear, because whatever they don't take is yours forever.

"The others, were they there?"

"No." I have to fight to hold in the sneer. This fat, rutting priest in front of me, Father Ramond, who is sipping from a brandy sniffer and eyeing me like a piece of meat, even through my armor.

"You're sure, did he have the sword?"

"Which sword mi'lord?"

With what must seem to him as a roar of outrage, but more to me like a half-hearted mew he leaps to his feet, "Don't play games with me Illana!" He slaps his pudgy fist on the desk and growls again, "He had the sword then. The sword that slew St. Ajora! And the stones? I suppose he has all the Holy Stones as well doesn't he?"

This is new. Holy stones? I mentally file away that information and affix a confused look to my face. "Mi'lord is making no sense. Of course Ramza still has the Ragnarok, but what stones are these?"

"Nevermind." He falls, deflated back to his chair. Of course he's already caught that he's not supposed to speak anymore about that particular detail. "You will find Ramza, and tail him. You will not be seen, and you will ascertain the conditions of all his team. Then, if you can verify the condition of the traitor, Miss Oaks, you will return to me with proof of her execution." He half lids his eyes now, as if in deep thought, I think he just looks like a puffed up sow. "Any concerns?"

One flits through my head, and escapes my lips before I can think to hold it back. "And if Ramza himself should interfere? He holds Agrias Oaks in high esteem, and is her commander. I doubt he'd look on kindly if I were to kill her. Should I dispose of him too?"

Turning, Ramond presents the back of his chair to me. "If it compromises the mission, then kill him. But only if it's absolutely necessary. I'd rather him alive to submit for divine punishment instead." I bow. A useless gesture to the back of a chair, but whatever, I'm sure it's fine.

Kill Agrias. Seems simple enough.

- - - - -

I really do apologize for the incredible (almost two years) of delay. But yeah, anyone who goes to school knows that stuff just loves to get in the way.


End file.
